My Escape
by MelodiousVengeance
Summary: AU. What if Malfoy had been the one to win the Liquid Luck and not Harry? What would he use it for? Prompt from MysteriousGirl11.


**A/N: Vengeance here everyone! Got a new Harry Potter story for you! Hope you like it. Prompt and story idea/ Written for MysteriousGirl11! Hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the words. All Characters belong to J.K. Rowlings. And Prompt from MysteriousGirl11!**

"Huh?" Asked Draco confused as he acknowledged what was being said to him. Had Professor Slughorn just said he had won? He looked at him, his eyes glazed over trying to clear his head enough to go up and take the vile of potion from his Potions Professor. He could see all the other students staring at him, and that snapped him out.

"What are you looking at?" He growled viciously and pushed people out of his way as he moved to snag the vile. This was perfect. He could think of endless possibilities he could use this for. He knew what he really was supposed to use it for, but he wasn't sure if that was really the best idea. It all depended on how well this potion really worked. If it was super lucky, then he might just be able to use it for the reason that he always had trapped in a cage in the back of his mind.

He turned from where he had gotten the potion from the Professor and turned to go back through the gap that was made for him to walk through. He had a lot to think about.

"Move it Mudblood." He said almost pushing Hermione Granger out of his way. But that ginger Weasley heathen grabbed her shoulder and pulled her out of his way. She looked dishevelled and clearly had a lot of trouble with the potion, as most of the students did. It was not an easy thing to brew, and he was almost humble enough to say he had trouble. Almost. Psh, yeah. Who was he kidding? He was Draco Malfoy, nothing was hard for him.

He knew as soon as he got out of the classroom and into the hall where he was going. Thankfully he knew that he wasn't going to have to go far. He was already in the dungeon, conveniently putting him in the same place as the Slytherin common room. He had to think and there was only one place he would go to that he would trust himself to thin in peace, without being caught and asked questions.

Crabbe and Goyle were still in class by the looks of it. They were usually sitting in the common room waiting for him to return like the brainless puppies they were.

"Good. I'll have peace." He said quietly to himself and made his way directly to his dorm, the wonders of his father's money. He had paid for Draco to get a room to himself. How convenient for him to think on the best way to use this little vile of liquid luck.

To him it looked like he had three options.

1. He could use it make sure he killed Dumbledore.  
2. He could use it to finish it all and get Potter.

Or

3. He could use it to try and get out of the Death Eaters.

Number three was looking like the most appealing to him. But he wasn't sure how much this little potion could do. He knew, though he wouldn't admit it, and he would hate to acknowledge it. But he knew he wasn't a killer. He was never going to be one. There was no way he was ever going to be able to bring himself to kill Dumbledore or Potter, no matter how much he hated them. He couldn't even say he hated them. He just couldn't put up with the embarrassment that Potter brought on him. He was a Malfoy, he could wear pride with the best of them.

He shook his head and figured he knew what he had to do. He was just worried what he had to do was going to get him killed.

He went over to his trunk and removed a roll of parchment and a quill with his ink. He sighed, running his hands through his hair before he set pen to paper.

_Dearest Father,_

_I need to request an audience with you at the soonest time possible._

_Your son  
Draco._

Just one sentence, but it was the scariest letter he had ever written, and he was ashamed that you cold clearly see that his hand was shaking by the way the ink and smudged around the parchment. He took a deep breath and rolled it around his owl's leg and then opened the window sending it off. Now the rest was up to the potion. He wasn't sure what would be the best way for him to use it now. Should he take it now and hope that the letter will start things off. Or, maybe he should wait till he has his audience with his father. Make sure that the potion was in full swing?

"Hold off. Patients Draco. Patients is a virtue." Words he has heard his mother say many times. Not only when he was a child, but even now at his age. He had heard her say it only last week, when he was assigned his mission to get rid of Dumbledore. She seemed to think that the best way for him to make sure he wasn't caught, he was going to have to pick the opportune moment. But he didn't think an opportune moment was going to present itself, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn't want one to.

This was the worst. No one liked a waiting game. Draco moved to his bed and laid down, arm thrown over his eyes feeling the start of a headache start to thump its path along his forehead. This had been a bad idea. No way did he get out of being a Death Eater. Once you were in, you didn't get out. Unless of course you were killed, which didn't seem all that appealing to him. But it looked like no matter what he was going to end up dead soon anyways. Better on his terms then someone else's right? Of course it was, it kept him in charge, and yet, it was no comfort to him.

Even in his state of turmoil, Draco seemed able to fall asleep right there. Lucky for him his potions class had been his last class of the day. He woke to the tik tik tik of his owl knocking on his window, and letter clasped tightly in his beak.

Did he really want to read that letter? Was it worth trying to get out? He wasn't sure but with shaking hands he opened the window letting his owl in and taking the letter from his beak. Thankful his father hadn't placed it in an envelope. There was no way he would have been able to get it open with the way his hands were shaking. He opened it and closed his eyes preparing himself for what it might say. When he thought he would be able to handle it he opened his eyes and saw only three words on the piece of paper.  
_  
Tonight. Shrieking Shack._

So soon? Panic struck Draco looked at the clock and saw that it was dinner time. He was going to have o leave directly after and make his way there. There was no way he could be late for this. This, what was it? His Death? His freedom? He wasn't sure, though he was just going to talk to his father. He might be able to do something about it; he had managed to do this for him before.

Dinner came and went without Draco really knowing it. He couldn't even recall eating, just folding and unfolding his note from his father. As soon as people started to leave he pushed his little puppies out of his way as they started talking to him with words that danced around his ears put didn't enter them. He had tunnel vision on.

He walked to the Whomping Willow and made his way to the tunnel underneath it which would bring him directly to the shack. He took his time walking through it, unsure how he was going to tell his father of his intentions. As he came to the door he decided it would be best to be direct. No nonsense, otherwise he would be furious. Though he was sure he would be raging when he said it anyways. His father was a wise man though, and he would know what to do and help him. Wouldn't he? He pulled out the potion and drank it all then opened the door.

"Draco." He heard it before he saw his father. He was in the living room sitting comfortably in a red velvet chair. Draco immediately lowered his head out of respect, not only was his father good with his wand, but also with his cane and fist.

"Why did you want to see me?" He asked with his arrogant tone, looking down his nose at his own son. It was like he was talking to Dobby and not him. Draco cleared his throat and raised his head to look his father in the eye, trying to show he wasn't scared, even though he was terrified.

"I want to be released from the Death Eaters." He said in a rush of words.

"Oh really?" came a voice from behind him. The hair on his body stood up and he started to cold sweat within seconds. He knew that voice. He wished he had never had to hear it, hear the name of its owner, but he knew it all too well. He turned to look into the red snakelike eyes of Lord Voldemort himself. The cruellest man alive and the man he was trying to leave. Now he was dead for sure he just knew it.

Best to keep his pride while he was doing it, he took a deep breath, held his head high and looked at him steadily, willing the cold sweat to stop. He wanted to die with honour, not look like a coward. Either way he knew he had to speak up now, even though they might be the last words he said.

"Really. I want out. I'm not your lap dog anymore." And what should happen next? The Dark Lord laughed? He was actually laughing, and then he pulled out his wand, and Draco closed his eyes. Bracing himself for the worse. He heard no words, but saw a flash of light and felt a sting on his arm.

"I knew you were too weak to last. Come Luscious." Said the Dark Lord and there were two pops.

Draco opened his eyes checking dumbly to see he was still alive. There was no way. He looked down to see that the dark mark was now gone from his arm.

He was free.

The only question? For how long?


End file.
